Daddy
by BlueUtopiah
Summary: Kurama has struck a deal: his body for her life. AU KarasuKurama. Lemon, Crossdressing, SelfMutilation, Yaoi.


**Author's Note**

-I don't own them and I'm not making any money from this. Obviously I'm doing something wrong.  
-This story is alternate universe and contains graphic sex, cross-dressing, humiliation, self-mutliation, rape, incest, and yaoi.

* * *

Oh how Kurama hated his body. His perfect body, his healthy body, his beautiful body that gave pleasure to the man he hated but saved the woman he loved. An alabaster palace and prison of flesh, it was the only thing he had to offer and the thing he'd come to hate the most.

_Sharp emotion, sharp razor, sharp pain, blood release._

Over and over Kurama carved a bloody path in his wrist, releasing the hatred in the only way he knew how. His situation was so horrid that he was beyond tears, but he was sure that if he didn't do this the pain would ball up inside him, bursting out of his chest in a gory mess, and then they would know.

And then she would die.

Ten months ago Shiori became ill, eight months ago they learned she had cancer, five months ago Kurama readied himself for her death, and two months ago she married the doctor that treated her as she slowly began to recover.

That's when Kurama's world of loneliness and grief changed to humiliation and despair.

Shiori's treatment was experimental and very expensive, but successful. Only a physician of her new husband's stature could afford and have access to it, and it was a boon that he took such an interest in Shiori.

And her beautiful crimson-haired son.

Kurama knew that this was the only way he could save her. No matter how hard he worked he could never afford the newest medications, the therapy, the battalion of nurses that doted on her every move. And to see her so close to health again made all of this _almost_ worthwhile. But the flush in her cheeks didn't make his pain go away, pain that became worse and worse with every day that passed.

_Sharp emotion, sharp razor, sharp pain, blood release._

Red ran in thin trails down Kurama's arm and he watched it with odd detachment, as if it wasn't his arm, as if it wasn't his blood…

"Shuuichi" A velvet voice reached out from the intercom. "Could you come down here for a…_moment_?"

Kurama cringed, the razor clattering to the floor. Quickly cleaning and wrapping his wrist, he placed a black cuff around it to hide the bandaging and made his way downstairs.

_The end of the hall, turn right, use the back stairs, first floor on the east side._

He'd been living in his stepfather's mansion for eight weeks, but hadn't completely learned his way around the enormous place. His mother's room was on the third floor, down the hall from his, and her husband's office was downstairs on the other side of the house, which was good because Kurama never wanted her to hear what was going on behind those walls.

Reaching his destination, he paused outside the exquisitely carved doors and steeled himself.

"Come in, Shuuichi" a voice beckoned. "I know you're standing out there."

Kurama felt his stomach clench as he pushed open one of the doors and slipped inside, closing it behind him. The room, as always, was impeccable. Fine antiques graced the space, competing for attention amongst the statues and art which accented the décor. The focal point of the room was a large well-polished desk made from wood so dark it was almost black, and behind it Kurama's stepfather sat gracefully, hands folded in his lap, regarding his new charge with a devious expression.

The redhead stopped before the man, eyes flickering over him then resting on a large package lying atop the desk. The parcel was about a foot wide by two feet long and wrapped neatly in crisp white paper, a shiny red bow placed on its center.

"Shuuichi," The man stood, adjusting his suit jacket and gesturing at the gift. "I bought you something today. The moment I saw it I thought of you."

Green eyes narrowed. Kurama thought about taking the box and throwing it in his stepfather's face, but he knew better. Without a sound he reached forward and lifted the gift off the desk, letting the bow slide to the floor, and grasped the edge of the lid, opening it.

His already clenched stomach roiled and he held back the urge to vomit. Dropping the box, a pleated schoolgirl skirt and one saddle shoe fell to the floor, and Kurama shook his head.

"I-I can't." He backed away. "You're _sick_; I can't do this." Every nerve in his body screamed for him to run to the door, but his stepfather was quicker than thought and before he knew it, Kurama was pinned against the taller man's chest, a rough hand snaking through his hair and wrenching his head upward.

"Yes, I'm _very_ sick." Violet eyes glinted. "But you knew that when we made this deal. Your body for her life." He released the redhead, picking up the strewn items and placing them back in the box, then shoving it into the boy's arms.

"Now go in there." he angled his chin towards the adjoining bathroom. "And change."

Kurama's knees felt like water. "Karasu…" he whispered.

"No." The dark-haired man reached forward and ran a hand through that crimson hair, how he adored that hair! "When you come out of that bathroom, you will no longer call me Karasu." He smiled malevolently, like a wolf. "You will call me _Daddy_."

_First the bra, then the skirt, then the shirt, then the shoes…_

Twenty minutes later Kurama exited the bathroom in costume, a strained look on his face but Karasu paid that no heed, the way the boy looked in that uniform eclipsed any horrid expression he might wear. Looking as if he had just walked out of Catholic school, Kurama was delicious, sinful, a walking wet dream, sending Karasu's demented perversion to new heights. A plaid pleated skirt hugged the redhead, fitting his hips snugly and flaring out to mid thigh, making his long white limbs seem even longer. The prim white button-down shirt also fit well, tight enough to accent his slender chest and sheer enough to show the lacy red bra underneath. A short crimson tie was knotted around his neck, perfectly matching his hair which was pulled into two high pigtails, the ends of the locks brushing his shoulders, and tiny white socks and saddle shoes finished the ensemble.

Obviously uncomfortable, Kurama fidgeted under his stepfather's gaze, brushing one of the pigtails back, freezing as the man frowned.

"Take it off." Karasu ordered from his seat on the leather couch. When Kurama gave him a confused look, Karasu pointed at his left wrist. "The black bracelet. Take it off."

The redhead winced, hesitating. He didn't want Karasu to know about his…habit. "B-but" he stuttered, wrapping a protective hand around the cuff, feeling insanely vulnerable in those clothes.

"I don't think you heard me." Getting up, Karasu removed his jacket and loosened his tie. Striding to Kurama in two large steps, he grasped the boy's arm and wrenched it free. "I _said_ take it off."

Kurama cried out as that bruising grip twisted his injured wrist and he could feel his cuts reopening, stinging as fresh blood welled through them once again. "NO!" he shrieked, trying to free himself, but Karasu was larger and stronger, and without much effort, the man ripped the black cuff and the bandaging from Kurama's wrist.

He stared in shock at the deep cuts marring the gentle limb, and the still-healing scars underneath them, then pulled his hand back and slapped Kurama across the face.

"Only _I_ hurt you!" He declared, anger making his violet eyes dark and more menacing than before. Kurama tried to shrink back, too disoriented by the slap and his emotions to do much else except pull away, but Karasu grabbed him by the wrist again, yanking him toward the couch.

Saddle shoes squeaked against the hardwood floor as Kurama resisted, but it was fruitless as he was mercilessly dragged across the room. Settling on the couch, Karasu gave Kurama's arm a final tug that almost tore out his shoulder, and the redhead stumbled forward, falling.

Karasu caught him around the waist, turning and angling his descent so that he fell forward, bent over the man's knees, ass in the air. Kurama felt the back of his skirt being pulled up and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing down the bile rising in his throat.

He tried to plead for rationality. "Please…Karasu, I'm sor-"

_CRACK_

A stinging wave burned across Kurama's buttocks and a low tight voice growled "What did I tell you to call me?"

Kurama gasped at the strike, green eyes flying open, stuttering "D-d-daddy, p-please."

_CRACK_

"I thought better of you Shuuichi. I'm surprised you would stoop so low as to hurt yourself." Deft fingers stroked the reddening flesh, slipping under the thin strap of the crimson thong beneath the skirt. "Are you that unhappy? Do you not like the pleasure I give you?"

A tearless sob ripped from Kurama's throat as a finger traced his entrance. "N-no."

Karasu's grin was a study in perversion. "Then why, Shuuichi?" Feigned concern laced his voice. "You have everything a boy your age could want. Money," His finger brushed that sweet opening again and the boy in his lap shuddered. "Education," his other hand trailed up that lean back and brushed a few stray hairs at the nape of Kurama's neck. "Love," He wrapped a pigtail around his fist and tugged, turning that exquisite face towards his. Once they were close enough to feel each other's breath Karasu narrowed his eyes and whispered. "_A healthy mother_." Those terrified green pools closed again, trying to block him out, but Karasu was used to it. Actually, he enjoyed his stepson's reluctance; it made breaking him such an enjoyable task, for all the times Karasu had taken Kurama the redhead still resisted him, that fire still burned…although it burned lower and lower each time. Obviously, he was doing more damage than he thought if the boy was reduced to self-mutilation, but he wanted to _see_ that pain, wanted to witness every piece of sanity that fell away, wanted to crush the boy's mind and observe that destruction.

With his hand still wrapped around that pigtail, Karasu turned Kurama's head until he could whisper in his ear. "We made a deal Shuuichi, you're mine now; don't ever forget that. It's useless to resist me; give in and you'll enjoy this." Kurama jumped as the finger resting on his opening slid forward and stroked his flaccid shaft. As usual, Karasu could read Kurama's body perfectly, and every touch sent desire surging through the boy's veins, making his member harden with each silken stroke. That was the worst part of their agreement, for as sick as this was, as horrible the circumstances, Karasu had the ability to make Kurama enjoy this, bringing him to the pinnacle of pleasure again and again, leaving him a slick sweaty mess on his office floor, nerves singing and head spinning, hating himself.

And wanting to slice open his flesh to release that hatred.

_CRACK_

"Get on your knees."

Kurama tumbled to the floor, landing hard on his left hip and crying out, then scrambling up on all fours. He learned early on that if he obeyed his stepfather's whims it made the entire process easier, quicker, and – physically – less painful. Placing himself between the older man's spread legs, he watched in disgust as Karasu unzipped his slacks, reached in, and pulled out his huge, dripping shaft.

Opening his mouth, Kurama placed a hand on each of his stepfather's knees and leaned forward.

"Wait."

The redhead halted, heart pounding, unsure. His sessions with Karasu were becoming more and more perverse and with each tryst the man was forcing him to do things that were degrading and disgusting, but full of sensation. He was afraid of what might come next.

Reaching forward, Karasu removed his stepson's flimsy tie and opened the first few buttons of the shirt, exposing the bra. "That's it." He smiled, leaning back again and flipping his curtain of hair over the back of the couch. Fixing the submissive redhead with a lascivious stare he ordered. "Now, pleasure me like the little whore you are."

Kurama obeyed, starting with slow licks, tracing Karasu's cock with his tongue, sampling the fluid at the tip, sliding down and lathering his balls. Then he took the purple member into his mouth, and holding back the urge to gag with practiced ease, engulfed it inch by inch until his nose dug into the black curls at the base and Karasu's open zipper scratched his cheeks. The older man moaned appreciatively, never tearing his eyes away from the broken schoolgirl at his feet. He didn't know what was better, the way the boy's mouth felt around his cock, or the despair and humiliation in those eyes as bobbed and sucked. No matter what he did to Kurama, no matter how he twisted and bruised that flesh, no matter how hard he raped that body the boy never cried, but the utter defeat in those green pools made up for that in spades and the scars on that pale wrist were more delicious than tears.

Grabbing both pigtails at the base, Karasu held the boy's head still and thrust, pushing open the back of his throat. Kurama made a muffled choking sound, his shoes scraping the floor again as he twisted, trying to breathe.

"Swallow," Karasu growled, loving the constriction and the struggle. Fingernails dug into his thighs as the redhead obeyed, wrapping his throat more tightly around the swollen shaft and choking on it.

"Again," The velvet voice ordered. Kurama complied, his vision edging black as he fought for air, his jaw aching. Suddenly, Karasu tore him free and he fell back, heaving and gasping, saliva running down his chin, his entire body trembling.

Standing, Karasu removed his shirt and tie but kept his slacks on even though the zipper and surrounding fabric were drenched with Kurama's spit. Studying his charge he smiled. The boy's pigtails were hopelessly askew, locks of hair escaping the fasteners and spilling down his back. One of the saddle shoes had come off in his struggle, the crisp white shirt was open and wrinkled and the skirt had an obvious tear. The redhead was sprawled on the floor, one leg hooked underneath him, his back and chest heaving as he took in large gulps of air, his hands bracing him, keeping him upright. A thin trickle of blood was running from his ruined wrist to the floor and Karasu bent down, grasping that wrist and lifting it to his lips then drawing his tongue across the wound and sucking on it.

Kurama gave a startled little cry and halfheartedly tried to pull away but Karasu held him fast, biting into the wound and smiling against it as the boy screamed.

"Remember." The man pulled Kurama up on shaky legs and smiled as red dripped from the boy's wrist. "You are mine," he stated venomously. "Only _I_ hurt you." Then his smile deepened as he whispered. "_Kurama_."

Green eyes went impossibly wide, the redhead's skin prickled and he was sure his blood had turned to ice. "What did you call me?" he rasped.

"Kurama." Karasu pulled him closer and clamped his hands around the boy's shoulders. "That's your nickname isn't it? The name your little _friend_ calls you." At the word _friend_ the grip on Kurama's shoulders tightened to bruising conditions. Since Karasu was a doctor, he knew just where to apply pressure, where to do the least to inflict the most damage.

Kurama gritted his teeth against the pain, anger flashing in his eyes, giving them back some of their old light.

"You _bastard_. You've been spying on me," He attempted to growl, but earlier activities left his throat a mangled mess, and the words came out in a scratchy husk.

Karasu tilted his head, black hair cascading over his naked torso. "Of course I have." His breath brushed Kurama's face. "You belong to _me_ now and I always keep an eye on my possessions." Early on, Karasu realized that his new toy had a love interest, a sullen gothic boy who visited the hospital on occasion and who seemed to have a strange bond with the redhead. Karasu had his men following them for weeks now and had learned that the boy's name was Hiei, and although the two hadn't done more than kiss, they already had nicknames for each other and a tremulous teenage love was growing. Of course, what those two had would not progress any further; Karasu was inflicting enough mental damage to ruin any chance Kurama had for a healthy relationship and he was sure that if the little punk found out what Shuuichi did in his spare time, he would be gone in an instant.

That porcelain flesh belonged to him…only he should taste it. Shuuichi was too delicate, too beautiful for some half-assed teenage bad boy. He wouldn't outright deny the redhead his friendship; however, he would twist the knowledge and the boy with it, using it to his fullest advantage…and pleasure.

The redhead in his arms was struggling harder than usual, anger strengthening his movements, making them more desperate. "Don't you EVER call me that again!" he managed to shout, freeing one arm and swinging at the taller man's face.

Karasu caught the punch easily, turning and twisting the fragile limb until it lay on the verge of breaking. Kurama cried out with such a mixture of emotion that Karasu's blood sang and he crushed the unwilling body against his, still holding that arm at an awkward angle.

"_Kurama_." He whispered in the boy's ear, avoiding those long legs as they kicked and stomped, trying to connect. "Such a pretty name. Don't worry though," He pushed the limb back by a millimeter and Kurama gasped in shock and pain, legs stilling. "I won't keep you from him." Karasu's other hand trailed from the redhead's shoulder down his back. "All you have to do is be a good son and do what I tell you, then he won't find out." Deft fingers slipped under the waistband of the skirt, grabbing the top of the boy's thong and pulling it up - hard.

Kurama gasped again as the thin strip of fabric brushed his entrance and bound his cock at the same time. Sensation within and without overwhelmed him and he went completely still, his heart sinking as he realized that Karasu truly owned him. He could resist but the man was always one step ahead, knew just what to use against him, and Kurama had no doubts that his stepfather was good on his word. Something in those violet eyes said that he was serious about every threat, and if Kurama so much as _thought_ about going back on their agreement, the man would have no compunctions about killing his own wife.

As soon as Kurama said yes to that horrible requirement, as soon as he gave his mother another chance, he became Karasu's…completely. This painful world was now his reality, and if he wanted to protect what little he had left he would need to be more compliant.

_First my mother, then my body, then Hiei, then my life._

Karasu sensed the utter submission sweeping through the boy and released his hold, watching as Kurama's arm dropped limply to his side. A moment later that angelic face, which had been turned down in defeated thought, raised to meet his and Karasu smiled again. Those eyes were deflated, empty…finally, the boy was broken.

Lifting a hand, Karasu softly brushed Kurama's cheek. "All you have to do is give me what I want, Shuuichi. That's all."

Kurama nodded, and gritting his teeth until his jaw ached, he reached up, wrapping his arms around Karasu's shoulders. Tilting his head, he leaned in for a kiss, whispering "Daddy," right before their lips met.

The man groaned obscenely, his hands everywhere on that slender body at once. After eight weeks of perversion the boy still kissed like a virgin, soft and hesitant and sweet, and it always made Karasu rock hard.

Bodies pressing even closer together, the taller man drew the boy's tongue into his mouth and sucked on it, nipples hardening as that lacy bra rubbed against his bare torso. At a particularly hard suck, Kurama let out a strangled whine and Karasu moaned appreciatively, releasing the boy's mouth and grinning as their lips remained joined by a thin strand of saliva.

Cupping that beautiful face, he looked into those defeated eyes and said "That's a good boy." Then he gently grasped a shaking, bloodstained hand and walked backwards, leading them toward the couch.

Opening his pants wide enough to expose his throbbing erection and both hipbones, Karasu settled on the couch again, perverse and darkly beautiful, a compliment to the abstract art and twisted sculptures around him. He was lean, but chiseled, nipples a dark red against his translucent skin, shaft threatening and purple, that cruelly magnificent gaze focused on the prize before him. Extending a hand, he gestured at Kurama.

"Lose the shirt and the shoe, but leave the bra and the skirt."

The redhead complied, toeing off the remaining shoe and dropping the white shirt to the floor. After quick consideration, he leaned down and removed his socks as well and padded barefoot the few steps to his stepfather. His face was blank, eyes empty, dick soft as he stared down at the man who owned him, awaiting further instructions.

Reaching forward, Karasu ran his fingertips softly up those long legs, over the calves and thighs, reveling in the softness, the supple muscles of youth, then back down the insides of the limbs, noting with a smile how the boy blushed and averted his head, trying to deny any kind of arousal.

"Shuuichi" Running his hands back up, Karasu stopped under the skirt and hooked his fingers around the top of the thong, pulling it down and off in such a way that Kurama began to harden through his resistance. "Sit in Daddy's lap."

Without a word, Kurama straddled the man and they drew together for a series of passionate kisses, tongues sparring, soft moans exchanged as each kiss became deeper, slicker, more heated. Placing his hands on the boy's hips Karasu guided them in a slow languid circle, feeling the boy's growing erection rub against his own, the thin fabric of that skirt the only thing between them. When he was certain those slender hips would continue their motion, his hands drifted upward, fingers slipping into the bra and teasing the boy's nipples into hardness, twisting and pinching the taut pebbles until Kurama was trembling with lust instead of fear.

Once the redhead's moans became louder Karasu gently pulled away with a final swipe of his tongue. Securing an arm around the boy's waist, he reached forward and pulled over a small black ottoman, placing his feet on it and stretching his legs out in front of him. Then he guided the dazed redhead into a new position, first turning him so that he faced away - straddling his lap in reverse - then pressing him forward until the length of his body rested against those newly reclined legs. Karasu smiled as crimson hair draped over his ankles and the bent limbs on either side of his hips placed that tempting ass inches from his mouth.

Kurama shifted, feeling uncomfortable and exposed. His erection flagged as he tried to balance himself along his stepfather's legs, hands gripping the man's ankles, thighs shaking as cold hands caressed him, nudging his limbs further apart.

"D-daddy," He whispered.

"Shhhh….." Karasu's body shifted, Kurama could hear a drawer from the table next to couch being opened and suddenly the back of his skirt was flipped up.

"This will be cold," Was the only warning Kurama got before a cool oily liquid dripped down the crease of his ass, filling the room with the scent of roses. Hands fisted the bottom of Karasu's pants as deft fingers spread the lubricant, leaving no area untouched, stopping and caressing every sensitive spot, every secret pleasure. Red hair spilled to the floor as Kurama tossed his head, the clasps on his pigtails coming completely undone, skin flushing as electric sparks of bliss shot straight to his groin. As usual Karasu knew how to exploit his body, how to make it react in exactly the way he wanted it to, and Kurama was once again rendered helpless under those hands.

Karasu's expression was downright evil as he played with his teenage toy. That tight ass glistened with oil, a shimmering sheen over milk white skin, and the boy's cock bobbed with each swirl of fingers, precum dripping from the tip onto Karasu's stained pants. Every time that pink opening was traced it pulsed and dilated, taunting Karasu, reminding him of the night that he took the boy's virginity – that hot slick night when the boy finally agreed to everything and Karasu fucked him until he bled.

And there was still so much Karasu hadn't done to his prize - all of this was just a start. Of all the boys he'd taken over the years he had to say that his little Shuuichi was the best: the most beautiful, the most malleable, the most responsive…he hoped that this one would last longer than the others.

And he also hoped, in the end, that he didn't have to kill him. Or that Kurama didn't kill himself. No matter how beautiful his boys were in death their bodies were messy and costly to clean up and he always had to wait a few weeks to clear the air before beginning the search again.

Leaning forward a bit Karasu grabbed the boy's right wrist, pulling it away from where it clutched at his ankle, and coated the fingers with oil. It was time to try something new, time to fuel the boy's self-hatred.

"Shuuichi," The man purred, leading the boy's hand until it rested on his ass. "Daddy wants to see you pleasure yourself."

The body in Karasu's lap stiffened. Kurama turned his head until a shocked green eye appeared over his pale shoulder. "W-what?"

Karasu gripped the boy's cheeks and spread them wide. "I said I want to see you pleasure yourself. Show Daddy what you can do with your fingers."

The redhead swallowed, hesitating for a long moment before his hand began to twitch, slowly making its way towards that puckered opening.

"Tease it first…pretend it's Hiei's tongue."

Nails dug into Karasu's calf and Kurama let loose a strangled whimper, his shoulders shaking with tearless sobs. This was too much. Hiei was always separate, something apart from this horror, somewhere and someone he could go to for escape and Karasu was soiling that comfort. After this Kurama would never be able to look Hiei in the eyes again…everything was being taken away.

_First my mother, then my body, then Hiei, then my life._

_CRACK_

"Do it. _Now_."

As always, Kurama obeyed. Steeling himself, he traced his entrance, gasping through his shudders, and then flicked his index finger over the hole.

"That's right, just like that."

Moving his digit in tight circle, Kurama outlined his entrance again and again, occasionally testing the outer ring of muscle by pressing against it, all the while holding back the urge to vomit until Karasu ordered: "Inside."

Taking a deep shaky breath, Kurama squeezed his eyes shut and slowly slid his index finger up his ass, amazed and repulsed by how silky the walls felt, how warm they were.

"Now find your prostate," Karasu's voice was husky, heavily laced with lust. Watching his pretty Shuuichi finger himself was incredibly erotic, making Karasu's shaft bob and twitch, dripping enough precum to form a shiny pool on his stomach.

Following orders, the redhead thrust in a few times, his shivering hand trying to locate his sweet spot, but reacting in such a way that Karasu knew he hadn't connected. After a few more silent pushes, Karasu grew impatient and, swirling his middle finger through the sticky liquid on his abdomen, he joined Kurama – pressing in and hooking over the boy's finger.

"Let me help you." Curling his digit and forcing the boy's to do the same, he brushed Kurama's prostate and a high-pitched wail tore from the redhead's throat. Then he pushed the joined fingers into that spongy muscle, moving them in a tight circle and Kurama's cries became as broken as he was, his body quaking so badly that he began to lose balance and tilt sideways.

In a flash, Karasu bent forward and wrapped an arm around the redhead's chest, lifting him so he sat upright on his knees over the older man's lap, their fingers still in that tight cavern.

Sweat began to pour from the boy as Karasu continued to play with that spot, using the new position to trail his other hand up that almost-naked chest and unclasp the front of the bra. It popped open, hanging askew, and Kurama's already hard nipples turned to stone, Karasu's hands teasing him into a frenzy.

"Ah – _AH_ – D-daddy!" Crimson hair swept across Karasu's face as he simultaneously pinched a stiff pebble and pushed into that sweet spot. Merciless, he never gave the boy a chance to breathe, assaulting him with strokes, twists, and pulls, feeding that frenzy until Kurama was nothing more than a quivering, needy mess. By the time Karasu removed his finger the redhead was too consumed by pleasure to stop his own actions, continuing to fuck himself without his stepfather's help, leaning his head back against the man's shoulder and moaning.

"Yes, Shuuichi…such a good boy…you make Daddy so hard." Picking up the oil again, Karasu coated his member, more than ready to screw his toy into next week. Threading a hand into that matted red hair, he held Kurama's head still then removed the boy's finger, bringing it up to his lips and sucking on it, reveling in the bitter taste that assaulted him.

Kurama's hips jerked a few times trying to find the lost sensation, then a ragged gasp ripped through him as something very large prodded his entrance.

Releasing that finger, Karasu grabbed the redhead's left hip and – without warning -slammed the boy down on his cock, smiling at the bloodcurdling scream that echoed through his office. Like Kurama, he was glad that Shiori's bedroom was two floors up on the other side of the house, for there was no doubt that everyone on the first and second floors heard that pain-filled screech.

Mindless, Kurama tried to wriggle free, instinct fueling his struggle, but Karasu held him by hip and hair and with a fierce tug he arched the boy's head back, whispering in his ear. "I'm going to fuck you so hard that you won't even remember your name. All you will know is my cock in your ass and all you will want is more."

"N-n-_NO!_" Agony and fear were etched across the boy's features but tears refused to glimmer in those emerald eyes and Karasu sneered at that defiance, grabbing both of the boy's hips and thrusting up while pulling that slim pelvis down.

Kurama screamed again and Karasu reveled in the sound, laughing darkly as he bounced the boy in his lap, the position forcing his cock in deep, driving into that pleasure zone every time. Shaking white hands clutched at Karasu's arms, bruising them as the redhead held on for dear life, the line between pleasure and pain blurred into a streaking smear, all coherent thought lost.

Blood began to trickle down Kurama's left thigh, and once his head began to loll back, eyes foggy and limbs rubbery, Karasu knew it was time to change position. Removing himself, he lifted the redhead and draped him over the arm of the couch, spreading his legs and admiring the damage he'd done to that innocent entrance. A particularly cruel thrust had torn the boy, but it was inevitable – even with all their play Kurama was still incredibly tight and every time they fucked, he sustained damage. However, he bore the brunt of his pain so beautifully that it made Karasu want to hurt him more and more.

Holding his blood-stained cock, Karasu brushed it against Kurama's opening, drowning in the boy's whimpers.

"Tell Daddy you want it." His stained slacks slipped to mid-thigh as Kurama moaned and shook his head, too overwhelmed to do anything more than protest weakly. Pressing his long lean body against the boy, Karasu wrenched his head back by the hair so roughly that Kurama's scalp ached.

"_Tell. Daddy. You. Want. It,_" He growled into his ear. Kurama whimpered again, sore and strangled, wanting this to be over. Insanity licked at the edges of his mind; there was only so much he could take and he was reaching his limit.

"I-" Kurama's voice caught and he swallowed as his head was tugged back even further. "I w-want it."

"_What_ do you want?"

Kurama's lips were white as he ground out. "I want y-your cock." He closed his eyes. "Fuck me Daddy."

The tip of Karasu's tongue traced the redhead's ear. "As you wish." And that relentless shaft was shoved in again, forcing the air out of Kurama's body. Soon, the sounds of skin against skin echoed through the room, joined by Kurama's cries as Karasu pounded into that slender frame, using the hand wrapped in those cherry locks to arch the boy back, curving his entire body, angling for his sweet spot and causing as much agony-laced pleasure as possible.

Kurama's feet left the floor and he balanced over the leather arm of the couch, Karasu's hips and hand holding him in place, his body jerking with every thrust, crimson streaks trailing down his legs almost to his knees. He thought it couldn't get any worse, any more intense, until a deft hand began to stroke his shaft in just the right way – pulling on the head, playing with the slit, caressing the base – and true to his stepfather's word Kurama forgot his name as a fierce burning pleasure wound through him, eclipsing the pain, making him cry out for more.

"P-please-"

"Yes, that's right, beg for it you whore."

"P-please finish –"

"Daddy doesn't want to finish. Daddy wants to fuck you until you cry."

"_PLEASE!_"

The raw desperation in that plea was enough. Grinning malevolently, Karasu pushed all the way in and stopped, crushing the boy's prostate while jerking his cock as hard as he could. Suddenly, every muscle in Kurama's body tensed and with a choked, wide-mouthed cry he came, spilling himself over Karasu's hand and across the side of the couch. Once that cavern tightened around his invading shaft, Karasu began to fuck the boy again, even harder than before, and the redhead lay like a limp doll, moaning incoherently. As he started to reach his peak, Karasu took his soiled hand and ran it over Kurama's body, smearing him with his own essence, tracing the lines of his abdomen, the roundness of his nipples, the curve of his throat. Rubbing the last of it across Kurama's lips, Karasu shoved his fingers into that tempting mouth – forcing the boy to taste himself – and came, a long drawn out moan and shaky legs betraying the pinnacle of his pleasure.

Blood and semen trickled down Kurama's thighs as Karasu pulled away with a slippery wet sound. Kicking off his pants, the man watched as his toy crumpled, falling off the arm of the couch and curling into a ball on the floor, trembling. He let the boy stay that way for a few moments, going into the bathroom to clean himself and donning a black robe. When Karasu finally emerged from the bathroom, he strode across his office and stood over the redhead.

"Your mother should be able to walk within the week."

Green eyes shadowed with pain and horror rose to meet his, but the boy made no sound. Good, he had his attention. Grinning, the dark-haired man went to one of the many closets in the office and pulled out another package. It was similar in size and shape to the first one except instead of a red bow, this box was decorated with a blue ribbon.

"I'm flying in one of the top physical therapists in the world, as well as the best nutritionist in the country," He stated, strolling back to Kurama. "They should be here in two or three days and will assist in Shiori's recovery." He dropped the package next to the boy and it landed on the floor with a soft thump. "How long they stay is completely dependant on how compliant you are."

Kurama cringed and seemed to fold in upon himself even more. He was bloodstained, covered in his own essence, red hair a tangled mess, his bra hanging limply off his shoulders and his skirt ripped in three places, barely covering him. His ass was throbbing and bleeding, his wrist burned and his mind was a jumble of humiliation and shame. He glanced at the box next to him but didn't really see it. All he wanted to do was go upstairs, get away from this monster, and release the pain.

"Shuuichi," Karasu knelt next to Kurama and he shied away a bit, pressing closer to the couch and closing his eyes. "Tomorrow several of my associates will arrive. You will wear this and join us for dinner." He pushed the box forward until it touched the redhead's leg. Leaning over, Karasu grabbed the boy's chin and turned that beautiful face towards his, forcing him to open his eyes. "Then," he whispered once that green gaze focused on him "_You_ will be dessert."

Kurama jolted and almost vomited on the floor. Once he controlled his breathing enough to speak he looked at his stepfather with venom in his eyes. "I _hate_ you," He spat, wrenching free.

Karasu chuckled, standing. "No, you don't hate me, _Kurama_. You hate yourself." Then he strolled toward the door and without turning back, stated "In twenty minutes I will return to this office and you will not be here." Then he left.

The air was still. It took Kurama almost a moment to move and even then it was just to uncurl. It took several more moments and a white-knuckled grip on the couch to stand and once his legs decided to obey him he half-stumbled toward the bathroom, leaning against the wall for support. He didn't want to think about tomorrow night, he couldn't process it, but it lay like a shadowed lump in his throat and mind nonetheless. Briefly, he considered gathering his mother and disappearing but right now she was at a crucial point in her recovery and could not be moved; besides, where would they go?

His thoughts of killing Karasu were not as brief, but Kurama doubted that murder would accomplish anything. The damage had already been done and despite this sordid agreement, they needed the man and his connections.

Hands shaking, Kurama wetted down a towel and cleaned his body, not looking at himself in the mirror. Tearing off the remains of his costume, he tossed them in the trash and slowly put on the clothes he arrived in, still avoiding his reflection. He no longer wanted to see the face that caused this chaos, he despised it; his beauty was a curse.

_Sharp emotion, sharp razor, sharp pain, blood release._

Agony welled in his chest again as Kurama walked across the office, the air becoming harder and harder to breathe with each step. Finally, he broke down in front of the desk, falling to his knees and trembling so violently that he thought he would shatter. At his feet lay the black cuff he'd used to hide his cuts, and he touched it absently, waiting for tears that never came.

Taking in shallow gasps of air, Kurama looked up and smiled as something caught his eye. Reaching over the top of the desk, he grabbed the pair of scissors lying on its surface and opened them.

_Sharp emotion, sharp razor, sharp pain, blood release._

A slice for his stepfather, a slice for the package, a slice for Hiei, a slice for himself. Blood ran feely to the floor as Kurama renewed the path in his wrist, robotic in his movement, eyes traveling to the box taunting him a few feet away. For a second he placed the blade against his face, feeling the razor thin edge on his cheek. Surely Karasu would not want him if he was scarred?

But he dropped the silver shears to the floor with a heavy sigh. Marring his beauty would be the greatest sin, and everything he'd tried to save would be destroyed, Karasu was anything but forgiving. Karasu wanted this body, this perfect body, this healthy body, this alabaster palace and prison of flesh…

The pain swelled and surged and Kurama began to cry without tears.

Oh how he hated his body…

Shoulders shaking, face tight and pinched, he grasped the scissors again and started on his other wrist, hoping that he wouldn't cut too deep, yet hoping that he would.

Oh how he hated himself.

* * *

Reviews are always appreciated. Again, links to everything _and_ to the rare Yu Yu Hakusho clips on my YouTube account are in my profile.


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